Dear LeBron, how about a boat?

May 15, 2010

1. University Park man slain after dog urinates on lawn (May 12). The dead man was a 23-year-old father of two, out walking his fox terrier, Gucci. The alleged killer was a 69-year-old ex-Marine who had won the town's beautification and lawn upkeep award.

2. New CTA rail cars add space, awkwardness (May 10). Between cryptic stains on many of the seats and intensely personal conversations conducted at maximum volume, I'm not sure how much more awkward the CTA experience can get. But the new cars have more seats that face center, straps hanging from the rails and little way to avoid eye contact. Also, your girlfriend's parents are on every car, and your girlfriend isn't there yet.

3. Metra boss Phil Pagano's suicide a repeating pageant for Illinois (May 9). John Kass' column points out that, once again, a high-ranking area politico has chosen to leave by his own hand rather than face potential corruption punishment. Under investigation by his own agency, Pagano walked into one of its trains, his pocket bearing Metra's manual on how to handle post-suicide service disruptions.

4. Walgreens shelves plans to sell genetic test (May 13). Here's the thing about home genetics kits: Very few of us are, in fact, geneticists. I prefer to leave my DNA interpretation to experts, such as Maury Povich.

5. James Chicago talk just that (May 13). Dear LeBron, I know Bulls writer K.C. Johnson says your leaving Cleveland to come here via free agency is a very long shot, and I know long shots are not the strength of your game. But here is our offer, as I understand it: Two statues outside the United Center. All the Garrett Popcorn you can eat. An on-court partner, in Derrick Rose, who is just like you, but in portable guard size. Blackhawks season tickets. Exemptions from having to pretend to like Old Style, pronounce "Goethe Street" correctly or adhere to any other local customs you find troublesome. The LeBron James TIF District, for tax-minimization purposes. The old main post office as a home. A very large boat, plus your own remote that controls Chicago River drawbridges. Prosecutors who pledge never to ask you to wear a wire. And, above all, a city that is not quite as much of a living punch line as the one you would be leaving. See you in camp, big fella.